


sinner

by Areiton



Series: acts of worship [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Praise Kink, Priest Steve Rogers, Religion, Religion Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Steve Rogers acting as Tony's Parental Figure, This is dirty and blasphamous and I have no regrets, a hint of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: It's worship, profane and blasphemous, and the only kind of religion he knows, the only kind he wants.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Series: acts of worship [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587328
Comments: 10
Kudos: 236





	sinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same world as confessional, and there will be two more pieces in this series.

He is gold touched skin wrapped in black silk stockings and laid naked across white sheets. There are bruises on his neck still, from Bucky's mouth, dark and lovely, and he wants to set his teeth in them and bite, wants to take this devil with an angel's smile to pieces, and he _can_ , he can because Tony is many things but first, always, he is Bucky's. 

He is gold touched skin in black stockings and the crimson silk Bucky uses to tie him and he's beautiful, naked but for those stockings and Bucky's bruises, laid out like a feast. 

They don't get this, not often. They get stolen kisses in the confessional and rushed handjobs in the sacristy, a quickie while Steve teaches confirmation. 

But this--Tony sprawled naked in his bed, eyes wide and trusting, mouth open and panting, this is the kind of miracle that occurs only when Steve is away from the house, calling on parishioners, ever the good and faithful father. 

He thinks it's why Tony resents Steve so much. 

Steve was never meant to be Tony's guardian. He was a friend, someone Howard respected from his time in the Army, and trusted after Steve was discharged, someone he never quite took off the pedestal he placed Steve on, after the bombing in Afghanistan that should have killed Howard and Tony both. 

It didn't. The plane crash, three years later, when Tony was sixteen, did. 

Steve found himself guardian of Tony Stark, and keeper of his vast fortune, and Tony--Tony found himself in a tiny parrish in New York, with a priest who smiled at him but remained distant, careful to never come to close. 

He found Bucky, too. 

And Bucky found him. 

The boy that Steve adored and doted on and had no idea how to help, the boy that smiled like sultry sin when Bucky walked into the tiny cottage, two years after his parents death and just as furious as the first day, the one who stood in the pew in a suit that screamed sex and licked into Bucky's mouth with a tongue that was made to sin. 

Bucky was gone the first time he saw Tony, bare footed in a white button down that hung to his thighs and off his shoulders, lips stained red by his cherry sucker. 

Staring down at his boy now, he can't help but thank every god and angel that let him have his boy. 

He leans back on his heels and puts his hands on Tony's thighs, just to feel the muscles flex and shiver. 

The noise Tony makes when he takes the head of his cock into his mouth is an almost soundless whine, habit and fear of being caught ingrained in both of them, and Bucky presses his teeth, just a little, just to hear the catch of his boy's breath, the delicious start of whine caught back by a fist shoved in his mouth. 

He licks at Tony's shaft, a delicate apology, and cups his balls, squeezing just the right side of too much, and groans at the burst of bitter sweet salt on his tongue, at the shivering pleasure in Tony's taut thighs and the jump of his cock against the Bucky's tongue. 

This is what he'll go to hell for. The noiseless sounds of pleasure spilling from an eighteen year old's throat, and the weight of his cock on Bucky's tongue, the heft of his balls, smooth and silky against his palm, the scratch of lace catching in his stubble and Tony's fingers twisting in his hair. 

It's worship, profane and blasphemous, and the only kind of religion he knows, the only kind he _wants_. 

He closes his eyes, rutting against the soft sheets as Tony arches, a sweet perfect offering, and takes him deep, deep, until the head of Tony's cock nudges against his throat, and the bittersweet salt of precum coats his tongue and he squeezes at the base of his boy's cock, pulls away almost cruelly and Tony--

Tony _wails_ , a noise so loud it almost makes Bucky come, a wordless plea that devolves into the sweetest begging he's ever heard, a litany of nonsense babble and tears on his boy's cheeks. 

"Please, please, _please_ , Bucky--please, _I need it_!" 

Bucky smiles, licks quick and delicate over the salty slit of his cock. "Need what, baby boy?" he asks, false innocence and gravel grit, and Tony throws his head back, tears shining on his cheeks. 

Bucky wants to catch them all, wants to lick them away and let them absolve him, a holy sacrament, and he wants to make him cry _more_. 

"Need to come, daddy, _please_ ," Tony whispers, and Bucky smiles, and let's his hand abandon Tony's cock, let's it drift down and down, and brush, teasingly, over the plug nestled between his cheeks. 

Tony flinches away and pushes back into his questing fingers, and Bucky takes his cock in his mouth, a quick suck that makes Tony jolt against him, a tease and reward both. 

He shifts, and tugs gently on the plug, while Tony whines and arches and it comes free with a wet noise, shockingly loud in the silent room. 

He's wet and slick from when Bucky fucked him this morning, when the pre-dawn light turned the morning gray and Steve showered after his morning run, when Tony was too impatient to wait for the privacy of the empty parsonage and Bucky was too hungry to deny his boy. 

"Dirty angel," Bucky breathes and licks himself from Tony. Tony makes a noise, high and desperate, and his foot digs into Bucky's back, and he can smell him feel him taste _them_ , and the soft give of his rim is a temptation he can't resist, doesn't even try. He licks Tony open, hooks a thumb in his swollen rim and tugs, and licks in, catching the taste of spunk. Tony is writhing on the bed, mindless and beautiful, and he hooks a hand over his boy's hips, holds him still as he sucks at his rim and fucks him with his tongue and when that's not enough, when he _needs_ more, spreads him open on broad thick fingers and fucks him open with tongue and teeth and fingers nudging at his prostate. 

Tony screams. 

It jolts Bucky away from the heaven that is his ass, and back into the moment, and he blink as his boy comes, cock untouched, screaming in a way that he's never heard from Tony. Hands are reaching for him, long fingers shaking, and he goes, easily, sinking against his come slick body easily, sinking into the kiss hungrily and swallowing down every desperate noise Tony makes, a confessor holding all his sins. 

Tony is trembling and gasping, panting breathless noises against his mouth as he licks the taste of himself from Bucky's mouth, an endless loop of pleasure circling between them. He could drown in this, and die happy, and damn the afterlife. 

He quiets, eventually, stills in Bucky's arms, and Bucky listens to the quiet of the parsonage

They're alone, of course they are, they wouldn't _be_ here, if they weren't. 

But Tony's never slipped, not like that. 

He loves it, loves that he drove his silently little angel to that kind of noisy desperation, and he wants to do it again. 

He's terrified that they've been heard, that they'll be caught. 

"Buck," Tony murmurs, kissing his throat, and Bucky considers what kind of penance he should require, for this. 

He rubs his thumb over the bruise he left on Tony's clavicle, and smiles. Tips his head up to kiss him, makes sure it's wet and dirty, full of teeth and tongue and his hand around Tony's throat, just the way his boy likes. 

He likes this, giving Tony what he knows Tony will like, letting pleasure make him hungry and lazy, a giant cat arching to be scratched just right. 

"Sweetheart," he murmurs against Tony's lips and big, dark eyes blink at him, dazed and hungry. "What are the rules, sweetheart?" 

Tony blinks. Once. Twice. He shifts, just a little and Bucky catches him around the waist. 

"Color, baby boy?" he asks, low, pressing a kiss against Tony's pulse point, racing under his lips. 

"Green," he answers, prompt and Bucky smiles, adds a hint of teeth to the kiss. 

"You were noisy, sweetheart. You want Steve to hear you?"

There's a hitch in Tony's breathing, a twitch of his cock against Bucky's thigh and oh oh _oh_. That--that is interesting. Not surprising, not considering the way Tony prances around Steve, not considering the way Tony steals his clothes and rages when the parish ladies flirt. Interesting indeed. 

He tucks that thought away for later, when they're a little less naked and he isn't aching to come. 

"Daddy has to punish you, baby. You know that, don't you?" 

Tony is flushing, delicate red on his cheeks, breath sharp and unsteady, and how the hell had he never thought of this before? 

"Yes, Daddy," he murmurs, and Bucky draws him into a kiss, keeps it soft. 

"Across my thighs, baby." 

Tony spreads himself across Bucky's thighs so quick and eager, so graceful, it's like he was born to this, a sinner wearing a saint's innocence, and he takes a minute, staring. 

Golden skin, taut young muscles, that perfect round ass and the hint of Tony's profile, his head tipped to the side, curious and hopeful. 

"Count, baby boy," Bucky says.

The sound it makes, when he hits Tony is shocking and loud, and it almost covers the gasp that Tony makes. 

The second slap is just as sharp, and Tony moans around the count, grunting a little when Bucky spanks him again. His ass blossoms, a bright red that he loves. He wants to drag Tony's panties back up, scratchy lace against the tender red skin, wants to turn his ass red and swollen, and dress him all neat and proper and send him back to Steve.

His cock jerks, and Tony moans, rutting against his thighs, and this--this is a dangerous game, they're playing. 

"You're doing so good, baby," he murmurs, and Tony whines, a high pitched needy noise that goes straight to his cock. "Can you take another?" 

Tony nods, smears tears and drool against his leg and Bucky pets a hand over his hair. "You're gorgeous, you know that? So pretty with my marks on you. You were born for this, weren't you? Shoulda spanked you a long time ago. Wonder--" his breath catches and he spanks Tony again, sharp, harder than he has before, "Wonder what Stevie'd do, if he knew this could make you behave?" 

Tony gasps and comes, silent and gorgeous and Bucky jerks him up, and drags him up his body, shoves into him harder than he means, but Tony doesn't do anything but moan, slumping down against him, the glorious hot clutch of his body soothing some of the desperate _need_ burning in his veins. 

Bucky gathers him close, and licks away the tears on Tony's cheeks, kisses him slow and languid as he fucks him, a slow writhing rhythm that makes Tony shiver and shake, the gentle push of his body into the hot clutch of Tony's. 

It feels like a slow swell, the quiet gathering of a wave, the hot rush of it over the beach, and slipping away, gathering and gathering and gathering until he comes with a groan and Tony whines, shudders in his arms and comes again, spills wet and weak across Bucky's abs. 

He curls close, still buried in his boy's body and Tony breathes against his hair, silent tears against his chest. 

"I'm sorry," Tony whispers, and it shocks Bucky, enough that he jostles Tony away from him and the boy recoils, curls into himself, wounded and afraid, and Bucky huffs, reaches for him and tips his head up. 

"Why are you sorry, darlin?" he murmurs. "You know--there is nothing forbidden here. Nothing that is not permissible in our bed." 

"But--" 

He sighs. He knew better, knew he shouldn't have brought Steve up like that. He's a specter haunting their bed, has been since the first time Tony slipped into it. They never spoke of him, though. Not like this. 

"I don't blame you for wantin' him, baby." 

"You love him," Tony says, soft and accusatory. 

"I love you," Bucky says and it's not a negation, but it makes Tony smile and melt into him and lean up for a kiss. 

For now, in the silent parsonage, with Tony soft and malleable and the guilt draining away--he is happy. Tony kisses him and settles against his side and is asleep in moments, and Bucky holds him, naked and sticky and spent, at peace the way that only worship can bring. 

From deep within the house, the floor creaks. 


End file.
